Sweet Victory
by cymbalism
Summary: David Jacobs' little brother is painfully, maybe hopelessly, dorky. ::modern, very AU, barely a splash of background slash::


**Disclaimer:** _Newsies_ characters (not that any of them are recognizable here) belong to Disney, candy brand names are not intended as product placement or copyright infringement, and no money will exchange hands over this story (especially if no one sues me, right? right).

**A/N:** This is a slight departure from my usual fare -- and more AU than Denton in blue jeans -- but it grew out of an old idea and I just couldn't say no.

* * *

Seven anxious bodies clustered at the top of the neighborhood hill. It was 7:15 a.m. and the bus was officially five minutes late. The kids stomped the pavement, alternately staring at one another's toes and up toward the corner where the bus would appear. Ghost puffs of breath lingered above their heads in the dark morning sky. Only one week after Halloween the snow had decided to stay. David tucked his nose into the top of his coat and rotated his body toward the direction of the bus. Nothing yet. He shuffled his feet in the thin layer of white powder.

"Do you think we'll make it to school on time?" Les asked. Bus route 216 was the longest at fifty minutes, and on good days 216 kids barely had time to stop at their lockers before the bell rang at 8:00 sharp. Les' nose was running. He swiped a mitten across his face, but succeeded only in smearing the snot onto his cheek. David acknowledged, once again, that there was no hope for his little brother.

"Who cares, Booger Les?" Sean retorted.

"He's only a third-grader. Cut him some slack," David said, glowering through the pre-dawn light.

Sean grunted, but obeyed for the moment. Sean was a seventh-grade jerk, and even though David thought Les was a pain in the neck, too, he continually came to his defense. He was his brother after all, and chances were slim Les would survive in school, especially since David would be going to senior high next year and therefore taking a different bus. Unfortunately, Les would always have to fend for himself throughout the day. The was nothing David could have done about the nose-picking incident, for example, and now Les would be branded Booger Les forever.

Headlights swung around the corner and seven heads popped up. False alarm. The kids braced against the frigid whoosh of air the sedan created as it passed. David watched Jack's ears, which stuck out just a tad too far from his head, turn red like they did every morning. Once, last January, he had taken off his glove, reached over and pressed his lukewarm fingers to his ear. Jack had smiled and rubbed his other ear with his own ruddy hand. That day during science class David had sketched Jack's name in different fonts around the margins of his notes.

Jack was tugged into a private conference with Sean and Tony, an eighth grader. The two other girls from the neighborhood giggled at a whispered joke, glancing interestedly in their direction. David looked at Les, who seemed to be choreographing his own jig to keep warm. Maybe he was the reason he still wasn't friends with anyone in the neighborhood, even after a year.

"BUS!" Les hollered, scurrying to be first in line. The yellow school bus was this morning's equivalent to the sun. It sizzled into place over the gravel, flashing its rays of warning lights, and the doors opened with a _fwhap_. Single file, the kids skittered up the steps and past the driver. The bus driver had never smiled; the general consensus was that she hated children and her job. David had never actually studied the woman's face, but there was rumor of a hideous mole on his left cheek -- the side you couldn't see.

Duane Street was the first stop for Bus 216 and all the green faux-leather seats were empty. David bopped his brother on the head as he passed him. He had plopped into the third seat from the front, ultimate geek territory. David waded to the second to last seat, far away from the driver. Jack and Sean settled in the seat behind him.

Several minutes and a stop later a dozen kids clambered up the steps. A few ventured to the way back and thunked book bags and winter-wrapped bodies down around David and the other boys. Les waddled toward David's seat, dragging his scarf and backpack.

"Ted's not on the bus today. Can I sit with you?" His nose was still running.

David rolled his eyes. Ted, a fourth-grader, was Les' one and only friend. Without Ted, Les was defenseless. Once the bus filled up there was no telling what bully might sit down next to him. David stood and swung out of his way. "Scoot in." The bus lurched into motion, reseating him prematurely. He glanced at Les as the kid studied the frost patterns on the window then closed his eyes. Sometimes he could catch a nap before school.

Too few minutes passed before Sean peeked over the seat. "Babysitting?"

David lifted his eyelids. "My brother is allowed to sit with me, Sean. Give it up."

"What if I say he's not allowed back here? I wouldn't want him smearing boogers everywhere."

The bus rattled to another stop. Just as David prepared to snap back at Sean, Jack's head appeared over the seat. His ears were still red. "He has to be back here. If he stays up front by himself Fat Oz will sit on him."

Sean snickered. "Yeah, David, you'd have to peel your little brother off the seat." In the faint light from the window David saw Les' eyes grow wider. This particular fate apparently had not yet crossed his mind. Fat Oz had tormented Les since school began that year and was mostly responsible for spreading the name Booger Les.

"He wouldn't really sit on me," Les' voice was high and thin. Sean and Jack laughed. David smiled too, out of pity.

"Hey, hey, his stop is next." Sean tapped Jack's shoulder with the back of his hand. The bus had reached the half-way point through its route and was almost full. Most seats were occupied with at least one student.

The four watched as Fat Oz lumbered up the bus steps and into the first few seats. He found a spot next to one of his few friends, Morrison.

"You're safe, Les. He's too big to make it back here and be able to get off again." David appreciated Jack's reassuring Les, even at the expense of Fat Oz. It wasn't Fat Oz's fatness that made him a target, it was his meanness. Sean ran his mouth occasionally, but he was never as cruel as Fat Oz, not even to Les.

The overhead light flicked off and bodies and heads and seats were again only silhouettes. It was louder on the bus. More kids, slightly more awake now at 7:40 a.m., produced more conversation. Jack disappeared from David's view momentarily. He unzipped his backpack and came back up smiling. He offered his a package of Smarties sugar candies.

"Breakfast. Want some?"

David shook his head. "I ate real food for breakfast, thanks."

Les stopped melting frost with his finger tips. "Can I have one?" Jack dropped two of the small tablets into his hand and passed them to Les.

"I have tons of these. They're all I have left of Halloween candy," Jack explained.

Sean laughed again, revealing the contents of his coat pocket to be several rolls of Smarties. "Me too. That's what always happens."

Idly, Jack set a single Smartie on the top of the bus seat and positioned his finger behind it, as though he was about to shoot a marble. "You might want to duck," he suggested to David. David slid out of the way just before Jack released his finger. The Smartie flew up five rows before hitting the corner of another bus seat and falling to the aisle. Jack chuckled.

Sean glanced down at the pill-sized candies in Jack's hand and grinned. "I have a better idea." He unwrapped one of his own rolls. Les and David shared a troubled glance -- Sean was exceptionally good at getting into trouble.

The bus slowed to stop at an intersection and Sean lined up his shot in the stillness. "Think that meathead would even feel this?" he asked. Visibility was still low, but Fat Oz's head was unmistakable. Without waiting for an answer, Sean launched the Smartie. It reached its destination, ten rows up, on the first try. Fat Oz didn't notice and that was all the funnier. Even Les smiled sheepishly.

Sean and Jack flung themselves into the new game. The back of David's bus seat became a Smartie firing range, despite the bouncing movements of the bus. Most of the candies landed in the aisle or pinged off of seats and into laps of fellow passengers, but the boys managed to flick two more squarely at Fat Oz's head. After the third, he turned. All four occupants of the last two bus seats collapsed in laughter, hiding behind the green vinyl.

"Do you think he saw you guys?" Les asked, laughing but still nervous.

"Who cares? He can't get back here anyway," Sean joked.

"We're lucky he's wearing a hat. I can't believe he felt that last one!" Jack examined his remaining stash of ammunition as David looked on. He had three packs left. Their eyes met briefly and they both smiled.

"Hey, hey, look." Sean darted his chin at Fat Oz, who had somehow shifted his bulk to face the back of the bus and was scanning the crowd. "What's he got in his hand?"

The overhead light turned on as the bus doors opened once again.

"It's a roll of Smarties!" Les' high voice unexpectedly carried over the din, and Fat Oz spotted him. Les paled.

No one dared sit up straight. David heard the other boys mumbling behind him. Les looked as though he might be sick. A bluish candy tablet hit the back of the seat and fell to the floor between David's feet. A pinkish one launched over Les' head. Fat Oz's revenge had begun.

"Oh, it's on now!" Sean's voice funneled around the seat. David stayed slouched as the boys sprung to action. Smarties sailed overhead, from both directions. Each time the bus stopped a momentary truce was observed. Once the door sealed shut and the light shut off, the battle continued, one Smartie at a time.

After a few stops the noise level of the bus had increased significantly, and the rate of return between the boys and Fat Oz seemed to have picked up. Putting himself in the line of fire, David snuck a quick look up the aisle. The sun was only just starting to break the horizon outside, and the bus light was still murky, but he could distinguish Fat Oz and Morrison on the opposite side of the aisle, kneeling to face his direction. He glanced at other seats. Kids shouted and laughed and dodged. Sean versus Fat Oz may have been the initial battle, but it was not the only candy war in progress.

"Les, look at this!" David waved his brother to look up the aisle. "It's like every one is in on it. They all have Smarties!"

Color returned to Les' face, but he was still worried. "Are they all on our side? Who's winning?"

David grabbed his stomach, laughing. He twisted around to watch Jack take a shot. Jack's tongue was caught between his teeth and lips and his eyes were squinty. Despite his aim, the Smartie missed both Fat Oz and Morrison, but pegged a girl seated just behind them. She laughed, grabbed a Smartie from her seatmate and sent it Jack's way. It missed and someone else joined the battle in retaliation.

Tony leaned over from the seat kitty-corner from David. "Here! Take them." He shoved two packages of SweetTarts into his hand.

"These aren't Smarties," David handed them back.

"I know!" Tony beamed as he took aim with a blue SweetTart. "Means they fly further."

A popping, crackling noise sounded from above. Tony swiped the SweetTart back into his hand and snapped his attention toward the bus driver, like everyone else.

"Hey! Quiet down. I don't know what's causing the commotion, but I will stop this bus and find out if I have to. We're almost to the school. Cool it." The speakers crackled and popped again as the bus driver hung up her microphone.

Though the amount of Smarties cruising through the air had decreased during the announcement, the mocking backlash was underway within seconds. Sean eyed the shiny, domed mirror hanging to the right of the bus driver's head. "She can't see this far back," he said confidently. He and Fat Oz both took aim at each others' head. The bus smelled like sweet snow slush as the candy melted in the puddles underfoot, warmed by the bus heaters.

Les actively watched the war. In a way he started this whole thing, David marveled. He nudged him. "Here. Take them and help out." He repeated Tony's directions and plopped the packages of SweetTarts in his hand.

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

Les swiped his nose and ripped open the first package.

"SweetTarts? Awesome, Les. Shoot it hard!" Sean was rapid-firing Smarties. "He's out of ammo, Les, do it!" Fat Oz was not laughing, and he had nothing to fire.

Within seconds Les had a shot lined up. He had a clear path to hit his nemesis, and Fat Oz was trapped; he struggled to rearrange his bulk fast enough to dodge Les' candy bullet.

The bus was pulling into the school parking lot. Most of the other busses had already unloaded their juvenile cargo and headed out. Bus 216 rolled into place and jerked to a halt. The bus driver flicked on the overhead light and grabbed the microphone.

"I see you kids. Who started this?" She craned her neck to the mirror and unbuckled her safety belt. She stood and there was an audible gasp as his gigantic mole was revealed—it was almost the size of a dime. She began an imposing trek down the aisle, stepping over backpacks and limbs, hunting the person most culpable.

Les, distracted by the mole, hesitated.

"Take the shot, Les, take the shot!" Sean commanded.

Les pulled and released. All the students gaped as the SweetTart soared over their heads. This would be David's brother's salvation, his defining moment. He would peg Fat Oz in the head and be a hero. The entire bus population held its breath.

The SweetTart continued to fly forward, gaining speed and height. It was only feet away from Fat Oz, who was trying, in vain, to use skinny Morrison as a shield.

The bus driver took one more looming step forward.

The SweetTart collided with her cheek, just below the mole.

Peals and screeches of laughter and released tension echoed through the bus. David watched Les' initial terror dissolve as Jack and Sean clapped him on the back.

"That was hilarious, man!"

"What a shot! What are the chances?!"

Les' cheeks flushed and he grinned. David knew that would cancel out the nose-picking incident for sure. He would be Booger Les no longer and maybe, just maybe, he would make it through to high school. As the bus driver gestured for Les to stand, David glanced around his hip. Even Fat Oz was laughing.


End file.
